*CLAP* *BOOM* *ROAR*

I was startled awake this morning at 6:15 by a brilliant flash of lightening, a sharp clap, then a long crescendo of a roar of thunder. Now if I was in Texas, I wouldn't have given this a passing thought. But, I'm not. I'm in Berkeley. The Bay Area RARELY gets thunderstorms. They're just not common in this coastal region. Up in the Sierras and in the central valley yes. Here no. My heart is still fluttering as if I was scared out of a nightmare. I don't know why. It is just an odd way to start my morning. I managed to make my morning commute in during a lull in the rain.

This weather is beginning to make my spirits soggy and I'm taking it all a tad personally. It reminds me of one character in a Douglas Adams book. A depressed lorry driver. He's depressed because everywhere he goes, throughout the UK and across on the continent, it rains. Turns out, it IS personal. He's a raingod, unbeknownst to him, and the clouds follow him out of devotion and rain in offering. It makes the clouds very happy to please their god. In the meantime this poor lorry driver is getting more and more out of sorts.

My mind is turbulent with stray thoughts, bits of writing, some grousing, some jokes, some of this, some of that...but I can't quite pull my concentration in to write coherently. Except for a memory I had this morning on the bus. I really don't know why I remember this, and why today.

The last three years of my marriage was sexless. And I didn't even bother to seek outside my marriage for any alternates. That was quite a dry spell for one such as I, but there were many reasons for it, and in hindsight they weren't all bad reasons, nor was that dry spell such a bad thing. It gave me time to sort out various tenants and ethics about how I needed to construct my life going forward.

During this time, however, I started having particular dreams. Not every night, or even ever week, but often enough to pay attention to the connection. In my dream I was male, not female. And in each dream, I would wake up just as I was about to receive a blow job. Since my sexual history starts with oral sex and it is one of my favorite things to do, I have often wondered what it feels like to receive, rather than to give.

Naturally, I can't really know how it feels, for a man. I can know how it feels as a woman, but those sensations cannot be the same. Still, looking back this morning I find it odd that my curiosity would go so far as to try and create that experience for me via dreams. It's not like I have penis envy (though Freudians would have a field day with the imagery I just described). I'm very happy being female thank you. But, still I wonder.

The Primary and I have joked about having a blow-job contest with a friend. I maintain then men give better blowjobs, because they *DO* know how it feels, and just what feels right. Women *DON'T* know how it feels. All we can do is follow direction or verbal cues. Of course, following that line of logic, then it must be that women give better oral on a woman than a man can, again because we know how it feels. I've had oral sex from a woman--from a few women. But it has been so long ago, I honestly don't really remember much of what it felt like. So maybe I need to have that contest too :D

I think mostly I have sex on the brain, in one form or another, because I'm a nun this week. I don't have the disposition for sainthood, trust me on this! So instead I churn up little weird thoughts like these, and then hunt for my favorite two online for some taunt and tease.

I'm such a slut, even with soggy spirits.

A soggy spirit slut

There's a definition for the ages.

~ Red